


Without A Saviour

by Addfire



Category: Hiveswap, Homestuck
Genre: A lot of trolls are in this but the ones who will be there for more than one chapter are tagged so, AU, Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-03-28 01:05:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13892991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Addfire/pseuds/Addfire
Summary: Joey and Dammek never swapped places, so whatever happens in Act 2 never happens. Instead, this does. There won't be a ton of ships in this but I'll try to throw in one or two. The first few chapters are an introduction to the world I guess?





	1. Out With the Old

Vikare was chained to the chair. He’d long given up struggling, and at this point was resigned to his fate. His only regret was that Tyzias was stuck with him– she was much more valuable than him. He knew that. When she was around, things happened. 

He and Tyzias were tied to identical chairs, each painted yellow and purple. Memoranda of the Soleil twins. From the tent they were in, they could hear the raucous laughter of the highbloods. They were probably having the best day of their lives, taking their sweet time with the other members of the Rebellion that had been caught. 

He heard a chuckling and hissed at Tyzias to be on alert. The flap at the front of the tent that served as the door was lifted and three trolls stepped through. 

The first was no surprise. Marvus was the ringleader, he was infamy, he was terror incarnate. But why would he deal with someone like Vikare? Why was Vikare with Tyzias in the first place? 

The second was Tegiri. More of a surprise. If Tegiri had been enlisted then the highbloods must have been more agitated by the rebellion than more. Well, that explained how the highbloods were able to catch so many after the initial ambush. 

The third was a betrayal. She knocked the wind out of Vikare’s chest, and Tyzias gave a sharp little intake of breath. Boldir. She looked miserable, refusing to meet Vikare in the eye, focusing instead on some spot on her shoe. 

Of course. Their hideout had been chosen by Dammek himself, there was no way that someone who worked with the Empire would ever find it. But Boldir… she knew more about the Rebellion then even Dammek, at times. Boldir, with her papers and conspiracies. Boldir, who had become more and more pessimistic as the sweeps went by. Boldir, who Vikare would have waxed pale for.

“So,” Marvus said, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. “The infamous Entykk. How does it feel, I wonder? Tied to a chair and at the mercy of, well, me.”

“At least I’m not wantonly slaughtering people just for the hell of it,” spat Tyzias. “The whole hemospectrum is broken. How long has the Sufferer’s teachings-”

“The Sufferer?” Marvus asked, incredulously. “You talk about unity for all the blood castes, but you’ve benefited for sweeps because of your teal blood. And I do believe it was Vikare here who broke Tagora's horn and... I do believe our dear Taurza broke Tagora's leg?”

So, that was it. A bronzeblood attacking a tealblood, they’d torture the hell out of Vikare. Vikare resolved not to give them the pleasure of screaming. 

Tyzias looked at Tegiri. “You’ve aided the Rebellion, you were the one to take down Lynera! By yourself! So why join Marvus?”

Tegiri shrugged. “It really isn’t anything personal. Maybe if your Rebellion would actually improve things, things might have been different. But as it is, you’d be just as bad as Trizza. At the moment, money talks. And Marvus has money. It’s that simple.”

Vikare couldn’t hold back any longer. “Boldir, you absolute bulge, why would you do this? You were our greatest informat! Remember the time when you helped Daraya bomb the Outglut?"

Marvus’ smile became a little more forced.

Boldir sniffled. “They knew where my hive was, Vikare. Amisia was there, with Kuprum and Folykl, three wipes ago. They would have- they would have culled me. Or worse! I'm an oliveblood, Vikare, they could cull me even if I wasn't in the Rebellion.”

“Three whole wipes?” Tyzias said. “This has been going on for three wipes? Is that how Nikhee got Diemen?”

Boldir didn’t answer, opting to pull her hat over her eyes. 

“Gog,” Vikare said. “You know that if they were at my hive, or Tyzias’, or Polypa’s, we’d rather be dead. I’m bugwinged sick of your sniveling.”

“Well, that makes me happy,” Marvus said, “Because we purplebloods have been getting a little bored with the spectacles. One can only watch Barzum and Baizli saw so many rustbloods in half, you know.”

“Wait, what do you mean?” Boldir asked, raising the hat and eyeing the tent flap. “That wasn’t the deal. I give you info, you leave me alone.”

“And I will,” Marvus grinned. “But they might not.”

Tegiri, with his sheathed katana, hit Boldir in the back of the nugbone. She collapsed, unconscious. Tegiri looked at Tyzias with what was almost regret. 

"Ty- Tyzias, you used to be such a... you used to be such a good legislacerator. Me and you, we could have... No," He shook his head. "Over three hundred culls." Then Tyzias was unconscious. And then, in a flash, he was behind Vikare, and Vikare was unconscious.

When Vikare woke up, he was in a larger tent, in a sort of triangular arena. Tyzias and Boldir where at the other two points. In the stands were fifty or so jeering highbloods. In the center was a broken-off horn. Vikare didn't recognize it. The bastards. Where they going to cull each other with someone else’s horn? 

Marvus' voice was heard over some sort of loudspeaker. “Three trolls enter. One troll exits. Will it be the beastial bronzeblood, the offensive oliveblood, or the terrible tealblood?” He was trying to ham it up, get the crowd excited, but the crowd really just wanted fresh blood to be spilled.

Boldir tried to back away but was shoved back into the arena by a ceruleanblood. The only way to leave would be to be the last one standing, Vikare assumed.  
Vikare charged for the horn, grabbing it tightly. Tyzias shouted some plea, but Vikare knew what he had to do. He had Boldir in his sights.

"Look, Vikare, I'm sorry, alright?" Boldir said, olive streaking her face. "Is that what you want? I'm sorry!"

Vikare saw what he would do, in slow motion. He would tackle Boldir, shoving the horn through her thump biscuit. Propelled by the leap, he would dive into the crowd, attacking as many highbloods as possible. He was a good strifer, lowbloods had to be or they'd die. Who knew? He might even make his way to Marvus. In the commotion, Tyzias would escape. She was quick, and she could easily get out while Vikare fought.

Vikare's feet slapped the ground. And so Vikare flew.


	2. Inner Stemcluster Pressure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Focusing on some of the other residents of Alternia... we turn our attention now to Inner Trashthrust.

The crowd screamed Chixie’s name as she took her last bow. She gestured to her drummer, a Gemries (she had already forgotten his name) and the bassist, an attractive Virittanius. Chixie had gotten her number, so maybe Chixie might text her later. It was all up in the air, but she was going to pin it down soon. She had hosted the concert as a way to bring attention to her album. It was a very deliberate thing, Chixie hated not being deliberate.

Chixie smiled down at her happy, dumb, adoring fans, and then walked off the stage to a dressing room she had asked in advance to be prepared. She had also paid some uptight Lecer to guard the door.

It was only just when she had barely tugged her sweatshirt over her head that she heard a knock on the door. God, couldn’t she have a little bit of peace and quiet?

“Occupied!” She said in as nice a voice as she could muster. And then she stopped trying to give it any effort. It just went to show how absolutely useless olivebloods were. “I’m going to sign albums soon, please let the friendly oliveblood outside escort you away.”

Chixie heard a piece of wood or metal break sharply, and then the handle of the door turned. In the doorway was… an indigoblood. A Sagimino. He had the weirdest grin on his face and an obnoxious, butler-like uniform.

The Lecer was blushing furiously, olive rising to the forefront of her cheeks. “I’m so sorry ma'am, he just barged in-”

The Sagimino held up his hand, silencing her. “Calm down, miss. Chixie, my name is Zebruh. You don’t know me that well, but I, well, I know a lot about you. You could say I’m your biggest fan.”

Zebruh? No, no, this was not planned! A klaxon siren was going off in her head. “Thank you, but I’m really not ready to talk right now, I’m not actually interested-”

Zebruh let out a theatrical sigh. “See, I try to be nice to people. I was nice right there, and I shouldn’t have to be nice because I’m an indigoblood. And then I’m so nice to people and they just ignore me!”

“Er…” This was a nutcase. Chixie wished she had brought something- anything- other than her fistkind card to the showing, she wasn’t expecting to do any fighting. She was a bugwinged celebrity, not some barkbeast to do tricks for any highblood that wanted it.

“Is it because my strength is intimidating? I’ll tell you that even though I’m an indigoblood, I almost never use it. I mean, I totally could, but I barely ever do!”

Chixie was seriously starting to freak out. “So... Zebruh, what… do you want?”

“Just to tal- ACK!"

Chixie barrelled into him, bowling him over, and then turned on a dime and sprinted down a hallway to a back exit. She yanked open the door and stumbled out of the building. No, no time for resting on the accolades of that splendiferous escape. She pulled out a tablet and messaged a Liblo, the worst and best moirail she could ever ask for.

 ----

 

==musicalMagistrate began trolling textbookJudicial at 5:18==

MM: TIR)o(NA

MM: TIR)o(NA KASUND

MM: IT IS SERI)o(US TIR)o(NA

MM: TIR)o(NA WHERE ARE Y)o(U

TJ: Ω What is it you egotistical twat - 1

MM: TIR)o(NA H)o(W MANY RIGHTS D)o( I HAVE

TJ Ω Um, - 2

TJ Ω In respect to who? - 3

MM AN INDIG)o( BL)o()o(D

MM: SAGIMIN)o(

MM: ZEBRUH N)o( LAST NAME GIVEN

TJ: Ω Chixie - 4

TJ: Ω I could cull you with no retribution if I wanted to - 5

TJ: Ω Why does a sagimino want to cull you? - 6

TJ: Ω I told you to take out that lyric against purplebloods - 7

MM: THAT LYRIC HAS N)o(THING T)o( D)o( WITH IT

MM: S)o( PUT AWAY THAT SURPRISE N)o()o(DLE

MM: HE IS CREEPING )o(N ME

MM: HE BR)o(KE INT)o( MY DRESSING ROOM

TJ: Ω Uh - 8

MM: I WAS CL)o(THED IT WAS N)o(T THAT WEIRD

MM: BUT HE WAS HITTING )o(N ME AND I SH)o(VED HIM

 

TJ: Ω Where are you right now? - 9

MM: BEHIND THE HIVE WHERE I HELD THE GIG

MM: WAIT

MM: I THINK HE

 ==musicalMagistrate’s tablet was destroyed==

 

TJ: Ω Chixie? - 10

TJ: Ω Gog why do I always have to run cleanup - 11

TJ: Ω Who knew bronzebloods could be so problematic? - 12

 

\----

Zebruh had swatted the tablet out of Chixie’s hands. It hit the ground and began sparking and fizzing. Son of a bitch. That was a gift from Tirona- actually, just about anything she had that wasn’t obsolete was a gift from Tirona. But still, it was rare for bronzebloods to have things like that, even for a celebrity like her.

"Look, Chixie, I love strong lowbloods,” Zebruh said. He wasn’t grinning as much. “Most guys you run into are probably intimidated by that, I’m not, but… I’m just trying to be a nice guy and talk. Why’d you have to do that?”

“I…"

"And look, if you were trying to get me to hate you, I appreciate the sentiment,” Zebruh said, “But I’m trying to get a more flushed relationship.”

“Look, Zebruh, I’m going to ask you really nicely to back off,”

“Or what? Everyone knows you only bring a fiskind card to your concerts,” said Zebruh.

“Are you threatening me?” Chixie asked. “I have a fanbase!”

“That would surely grow if you were in one of Marvus’ shows, no doubt. Now,” Zebruh growled. “Let me talk-”

Suddenly, Tirona and some ceruleanblood– a Scorist– were by Chixie’s side. Upon seeing the ceruleanblood, Zebruh actually snarled.

The Scorist had a mohawk, his horns were pierced, and he had extra bits of metal sticking out of his eyebrow. He had a black hoodie on as well.

“Thanks for giving me exactly no information as to where you were,” Tirona said. “Lucky for me I was able to figure out his kismesis was."

"He smashed my tablet!” Chixie said, a little indignant.

Tirona looked at the still-sparking device. “You can’t keep anything for more than three minutes, can you? If only I were a cerulean, then I might be able to bring that guy before His Honorable Tyranny.”

“Mallek, what-” Zebruh started, surprised at the Scorist’s presence.

“Zebruh, I… am completely and totally disappointed in you. Going shithive maggots after some fudgeblood-”

“Hey! My name is Chixie R-” Chixie tried to protest, but Mallek and Zebruh were just going at it.

“- and just entirely turning into a huge sack of shame globes that aren’t even worth being in a kismesis with-”

“Oh, I’m going to rip your stomach out of your squawk gaper-”

“You have no right trying to hate me right now, I’m actually just pitying you right now-”

“Why aren’t you off with that new matespirit of yours-”

“For your information, Wanshi actually tries to keep up a relationship instead of running after a bronzeblood like a wiggler without a posture pole-”

“Like you’re one to talk about bronzebloods after your flushed fling with-”

“Skylla and I were not a fling, we were together for a decent amount of time until she ran off with Diemen-”

“Yeah, sure, Diemen’s mister steal-your-significant other, he’s a rustblood for-”

And then the two were kissing each other, hard. Going at it in classic kismesis style, that Mallek kid grabbing Zebruh by the back of his head and almost biting Zebruh, and Zebruh’s hands digging into Mallek’s back.

Tirona tugged on Chixie’s sleeve. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

“But- but he attacked me, and broke your- and broke my tablet, and-”

“And he’s a highblood. You hit him and you might get culled. As His Honorable Tyranny would say-”

“No, please don’t spout more of that legislacerator baloney. Let’s just… let’s just go.”

Tirona slung her arm around Chixie’s shoulder, and the two walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song the title of this chapter is based off is Flight of the Conchord's "Inner City Pressure". Beautiful song and very moving. As I said, kudos & comments are really appreciated and don't worry this gets gayer. Also, I had a lot of trouble working the colored texts and even after help from the user CloudDreamer– an absolute gem, read their works if you haven't already– I couldn't do anything. So enjoy!


	3. Alone In The Woods...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I still have no clue where this story is going!

It had been a long journey. A really, really long fucking journey. Elwurd hadn't complained at all, though. She had seen Daraya trembling throughout the whole thing, Daraya complaining- which to anyone who didn't know her it would seem that Daraya was being rude, and whiny, but in a situation like theirs, Elwurd thought that Daraya was allowed to be whiny. Elwurd was Daraya's rock. 

But to be fair- Daraya had seen half the rebellion get slaughtered by a cabal of highbloods. Elwurd had been standing by Daraya's side when Diemen had been crushed by Nikhee. Literally crushed. Nikhee grabbed Diemen by the head, and... and... god, Diemen was only five sweeps old. He was so young. Daraya had told Elwurd with a haunted look in her eye how Dammek had been culled by Amisia herself. She could paint a mountain with that brown.

Where were they going, Daraya had asked Elwurd. Away. The wilderness. The last time Elwurd had seen Charun, they had told her to only go to this place as a last resort. Well, this was one hell of a last resort.

And none of this was to mention the fact that they didn't have a recuperacoon- or anything that would let them rest. Thankfully they were in a stretch of forest that blocked out most of the sun's rays, and they hadn't seen any rainbow drinkers, but they were tired. Too tired. 

The dusk of the fourth night. No sleep for either of them. And then they found it. 

"Hey..." Daraya said. She untangled her arm from where it was around Elwurd's shoulder (Elwurd didn't mind, the other arm was in a makeshift cast). "Jackpot."

"Yeah, cherry. Jackpot." Elwurd gave a grin and ran her fingers through her hair quickly. Hell, the patch of hair she buzzed a wipe ago was slowly moving out of the peach fuzz phase and into the actual hair phase. Whatever this place was, she was going to ask for a razor first thing. 

"Gog, Elwurd, I'm so... I'm so sorry I've been such a mess. I'm going to try to be a better matespirit from now on, alright?"

"You're fine, cherry. You're better than fine, you're beautiful." Elwurd gave Daraya a friendly punch on the chest. "These trolls are gonna help us out. Count on it."

The two were on a hill, overlooking a large camp. Elwurd could spot a collection of what was mostly lowbloods, moving around heavy objects with machinery and occasionally telekinesis. 

"They're building something," Daraya said. 

Elwurd and Daraya walked down the hill and a murmur went through the camp. It seemed that there weren't any trolls of a higher color than olive. It also seemed that no one else from the Rebellion had gotten there aside from Charun and Cirava. But Cirava was wearing an eyepatch. Upon seeing Daraya, Charun and Cirava sprinted over. Cirava gave Daraya a bear hug, squeezing her fit to burst, although making sure not to touch Daraya's bad arm. Charun just looked at Elwurd a little dejectedly. 

"So you came here?" They asked Elwurd. "You couldn't go to your hive, or Daraya's?"

"It could have been compromised," Elwurd replied. "I mean if Marvus was able to find Dammek's hideout. Obviously, there's a person in the Rebellion who knows where our most secure hideout was, and was gutless enough to tell those goddamn highbloods."

"They aren't all highbloods," Charun reminded. "Kuprum and Folykl. I think Skylla does work for the carnival."

Elwurd sighed. She wasn't going to have this discussion again. "What happened to Cirava?"

"They... they shouldn't be alive. This purpleblood, not one of the Soleils or Marvus or even Chahut, just, this crazy purpleblood came out of nowhere and unleashed this insane chucklevoodoo. You can't tell right now, but Cirava isn't even all there. They've just... devolved into their aesthetic and that's it."

Elwurd spat some curse. "So, why is this place so–"

Suddenly, new trolls stormed into the scene. Cirava separated from Daraya and moved to Charun's side. 

The first troll, carrying himself with a swagger, wore a yellow overcoat. Psionics, blue and teal, sparked from their eyes, and some sort of visor covered one of his eyes. A goldblood, likely. Behind him was a ferocious-looking oliveblood, who eyed the other gutterbloods. Elwurd gave herself a mental slap on the neck, she needed to stop using terms like that. Even lowblood was offensive. Whatever. At least Elwurd wasn't fighting off some indigoblood. Thank gog for small miracles. 

"And what," The goldblood said, "Have we here?"

Elwurd gave a quick nod to Daraya. "Hello... Sir? Ma'am?"

"Sir. Name's Azdaja. This here–" Azdaja motioned behind him where the oliveblood was glowering. "Is my auspitice Konyyl. The third part of the Auspitice is..."

Azdaja frowned, and Konyyl whispered something to him. "That gravedigger, what a bulge- er, my utmost apologies. Now, I'll explain what's happening here. I've heard from Charun you're some Rebels?"

Daraya nodded. "Yes, we've been attacked by clowns and–"

Azdaja snapped his fingers, and a bronzeblood clamped a hand over Daraya's mouth. "Hush. Now, as I was saying... right. We're doing a similar thing. Lowbloods, rebelling against the highblood oppressors to take the power rightfully theirs. We have a little under ten thousand at the moment– supporters, that is. And what I've come to learn is that no highblood is an ally. So, much as my heart melts at your cause..." Azdaja gave Cirava and Charun a look. "Lock them up with the teal and the jade."

Charun and Cirava marched Daraya and Elwurd away. "What in all flaming hell?" Daraya hissed. "I thought this place was a safe haven or some shit like that."

"Shh, cherry, I know, I know..." Elwurd fixed Charun with a steely glance. "Actually though, what the hell?"

Charun sighed. "Azdaja talks big, but he'll warm up to you. Hopefully."

They were led to a suprisingly nice suite. It was a large tent, basically, but it had a fire and multiple recuperacoons so Elwurd wasn't complaining. Warming themselves by the fire were a short goldblood... and Tyzias and Lanque! 

Tyzias looked extremely worse for the wear, poor thing. Her suit was ripped, a few pins had broken off, and she had a couple new scratches on her cheeks. But it wasn't her physical state that worried Elwurd, but instead the fact that Tyzias wouldn't stop shivering.

Lanque looked like what he was: a fashion icon. In fact, the only sign of wear and tear was a small cut on his lip and a splattering of cerulean blood. Elwurd didn't ask. 

"Tyzias!" Daraya yelled, a few tears forming. "You're the worst goddamn kismesis ever, scaring me half to death, I though Marvus got you!"

"He..." Tyzias stopped, licked her lips, started again. "He did."

"She's not doing the greatest," the goldblood said. "I'm Zebede. You said you were– you _are_ her kismesis?"

"Yeah, that's right."

"Well, she's been pretty... out of it. The other jadeblood–"

"Lanque," Lanque said. 

"–Lanque, right, well, he came in here with Tyzias. Azdaja of course put the two here, but he tried to get some info out of 'em... apparently Tyzias had been captured by Marvus, and a bronzeblood and oliveblood helped her get out."

"And you're with Azdaja?" Elwurd asked. 

"Well, I'm not with the Rebellion. Living way out here..." Zebede chuckled and left. 

Lanque turned to Daraya. "So, why are you in detention?"

"Detention..." Elwurd said. "That's a way to look at it. I'd call this place a prison. And I'm only here because Charun told me to come here."

"I didn't even know there _was_ another rebellion! I mean, sure, one with worse intentions, but still!"

An explosion rocked the building.

Elwurd heard clowns honking. 

Tyzias buried her head in her hands.


	4. Too Close to the Fire

Fozzer leaned on the shovel, the blade slick with jade-colored blood. Working for Azdaja was never pleasant, but Fozzer had been born a gravedigger and a gravedigger he would stay until he died. He saw the ghost of the Virscen float away, stricken with grief. It was a rare night on Alternia that there was a happy ghost. 

Of course, under Azdaja he was more than a gravedigger. Take now, for instance. Fozzer's shovel was used in much worse ways then upturning dirt. Sure, being a gravedigger brought shame– decompositionists were rare on Alternia, with most trolls burying the dead. Disrespectful. But what he did now could only be described as torture. 

What Fozzer did made him sick to his stomach, but Azdaja was the one with the vision. Fozzer was just a nobody. Without Konyyl and Azdaja, Fozzer would be stuck in nowhere, doing nothing, waiting to either grow up or get culled. Here, Fozzer worked under Azdaja, doing something, waiting for Azdaja to upend the whole system. 

Fozzer sighed. He was in a plain white room, with a tattered wooden chair the only thing in it. There wasn't any natural light in the room, only painfully bright electric ones. The Virscen's body was slumped in the chair. 

Marsti walked into the room, silently. She unloaded her equipment – Marsti was the head janitor in Azdaja's operation – and got to work, cleaning up the remmnants. She refused to look at Fozzer, which was painful because Fozzer was waxing pale the moon and back for her. 

"So… what… are you up to?" Fozzer asked. 

"I'm cleaning up the blood of one of your victims," Marsti replied, putting harsh emphasis on the last word. She got back to working. Fozzer exhaled shakily. 

Then he perked up.

"Did- did you hear that?"

"Hear what." Marsti didn't even put the effort into her voice to give the question an uptick. 

"It sounds like clowns-" 

Half the room tore apart, destroyed by fire. Clearly now, Fozzer registered the horrific honking and laughter of subjugglators. Perhaps he was screaming. Through the haze of the fire Fozzer could see psionics flash through the night.   
Marsti grabbed her mop, and then, with reluctance, Fozzer, dragging him through the door. Why the door? There's an exit right there… Fozzer giggled, a little bit delusional. The two rustbloods scrambled down the corridor, only to be stopped by a locked door. Marsti cursed and patted herself down. 

"Jegus, stupid, stupid, leaving the bugwinged keys in the bugwinged torture room with its bugwinged–" Marsti concentrated and the door was blasted off its hinges with a telekinetic blast. 

"You have telekinesis?" Fozzer exclaimed. "If Azdaja knew, you wouldn't be janitor, you'd be-"

"Maybe I don't want to help that bulgesniffer and his barkfiend of an auspitice any more than I have to."

"Azdaja has a vision! He said-"

"We don't have time for this," grunted Marsti. She stepped through the doorway and into the night. She was tackled by a flying goldblood. 

Fozzer swung his shovel at the intruder, but it was Zebede. Marsti's moirail. 

"Marsti!" Zebede shouted, hugging the janitor tight. "You won't believe what happened! A Scorist and a Virnius came out of nowhere, and I think I might be really red for that Virsci boy we got last night, and then a squadron of subjugglators and legislacerators attacked!"

"Shhhh," Marsti hissed. "Shouldn't you be watching over the mind honey? What if the subjugglators acquisition it?"

Zebede shuddered. "Azdaja said that it was war, and that we had to use all of our resources. I think he and the other psionics took it."

"Azdaja said that? Well, I'm bugwinged fucking sick of what Azdaja said!" Marsti took a deep breath, steadying herself. "Where's Cirava? I know they came back here with Charun in a fit state, and we're in dire need of a glass canon."

Zebede pointed solemnly. In the shadow of one of the pieces of heavy machinery, a semicircle of purple and tealbloods had formed around Cirava, who wavered unsteadily, and some purpleblood who had painted their horns black and white. Cirava let loose a wild blast of psionics, pink and green cleaving through a couple clowns but missing their opponent entirely. The opponent, a Caprira, pounced on Cirava, broke off one of their horns, and shoved the black and white thing through Cirava's stomach. Then the Caprira took some of the golden blood and, to Zebede's disgust, painted their face with it. 

"Who the hell is that?" Fozzer asked, bewildered, with a tinge of a black crush thrown in. "Seriously. I have fucking no clue who that is."

"Cirava's a corpse now, does it really matter?" Was Marsti's quick reply. 

Some other clowns set off another bomb, causing the machinery Cirava had died under to collapse. 

"Come on, let's move!" Zebede yelled, grounding Fozzer. The three ran off, no specific direction in mind, just away. Zebede had his sickle out, Marsti with a mop that had the blunt end sharpened into a spear. Fozzer with his shovel. He felt a little out of place. 

They ran into Charun, crying, and didn't hesitate to drag him along. Any enmity any of them might have shared, the threat of death made them forget quickly. 

They were stopped by a tealblood. She was wearing a horrendous pink outfit that clashed absolutely horribly with… well… to put it one way, Fozzer couldn't think of a single thing that the pink dress would go well with. Her horns had been filed down to nubs. And she was carrying a pistol. 

"My, four little rebels, all in a row. There was no accounting for this, was there?" Fozzer spotted her sign, she was a Licen, talking to herself as much as to Zebede, Fozzer, and Marsti. "Terribly illegal, though. The Grand Highblood gave us permission to cull you all without trial, you know tha-" 

Marsti had stabbed her through the pump biscuit with the sharp end of her mop. Marsti ripped the mop out. 

"Stelsa!" Yelled a voice. A Scorgo charged them. One of her eyes had four pupils, the other none– standard fare for a cerulean. If Fozzer didn't know better he would have called the Scorgo a seagrift, for the pirate-like attire. 

Fozzer didn't know that ceruleans were here too. 

The Scorgo whipped out a metal bat, leaping into the air. Fozzer winced. This was all too much for him. He was just a gravedigger. He never should have agreed to be in a kismesis with Azdaja, and never should have agreed to his crazy vision. 

Fozzer opened his eyes to see the Scorgo missing a head. That Virsci boy from before was standing over the newest corpse, flicking cerulean blood off the rapier. 

"Second cerulean I've culled in as many days," The Virsci muttered. "Daraya! Elwurd! Tyzias! It's safe now. Only some of Azdaja's."

Marsti was emitting an unstoppable stream of curses. Zebede was blushing furiously. A Virnius with an arm in a cast, a Scorist, and a Licer that looked like she was already dead. The Scorist was fiddling with a small dagger, the Virnius with brass knuckles slipped over her free fingers. The Licer had a hatchet dangling from her fingers.

Introductions followed. There was an awkwardness between Lanque and Elwurd's group ("Lanque," Zebede had breathed when he learned his name) and Marsti's– after all, Fozzer worked for Azdaja, and Azdaja wanted to grind the highbloods into a dust. But Charun giving Lanque a tearful and sloppy hug kept any stiffness between the groups from being an issue.

"So," Elwurd said. "I'm currently of the opinion that I have no opinion."

"Aside from escape, that is," added Daraya. "Escape would be nice."

"Yeah, well, the subjugglators are wreaking havoc on the camp," Fozzer said, trying to be useful. "And what with the way clowns are, we have no clue where they could be. Except here, you know."

"All I know," Zebede said, "Is that the hives are, well, totally destroyed."

"Tyzias, you might know where the legislacerators are," Daraya said, nudging the tealblood. "Weren't you one?"

Tyzias nodded and then burst into tears. Seeing that, Charun started crying as well. Daraya made shooshing noises, comforting them and trying to keep them quiet. It seemed that neither Tyzias nor Charun were in any state to do anything. 

"Alright, well, we have to keep moving," Marsti said. "And to be honest, if any of you slow any of the rest of us down- that goes to you too, Fozzer- we're cutting you loose."

"No!" Daraya said. "If anyone gets caught by some bugwinged purpleblood, we fight!"

"That's a courageous statement, Baizli," said an eerie, high-pitched voice. 

"Mmm, let's see if it pays off, Barzum," said an identical one. 

Two clowns jumped out from behind a husk of a building. Behind them were a squadron of tealbloods. Barzum and Baizli Soleil, infamous and feared. The only clown scarier than the two of them was Marvus, but that was honestly debatable. 

Barzum – Fozzer thought that that was the one with the purple mask, but he honestly couldn't remember – raised a bow, and snapped it in half. Baizli took the other end, the string dangling between them. They charged with a horrible scream, and the other legislacerators moved into formation. 

And they were aiming towards Fozzer. He brought up his shovel half-heartedly, but the twins were already strangling him. Finally. It hurt a little. But Fozzer had been lost for a while. Now he would finally return to the earth that created him. 

Decompositionism was a complex religion. Fozzer knew each and every one of the three hundred and eleven tenets. Someone would have to bury all those tealbloods. They hadn't expected Charun to go shithive maggots, grabbing a shotgun from one of them and beating four to death with it before giving up on the shotgun and just using their bare hands. 

Daraya had a vicious punch, splattering her grubhorn imitation bracelet teal. Fozzer saw two tealblood ghosts leave their bodies in quick succession. Even with a cast Daraya was able to deal serious damage. Finally, a Limino hit Daraya over the head with a nightstick. But no jadeblooded ghost rose.

Instead, Elwurd slit the Limino's throat. Elwurd was definetely a practiced fighter. In anyone else's hands the tiny dagger would be a child's toy, but Elwurd had already incapacitated two tealbloods and culled three. 

Marsti didn't waste time with incapacitation. She had also dropped all pretense of having no telekinetic powers, slaughtering the tealbloods. Fozzer was glad someone as cheerful as Zebede was Marsti's moirail, because Marsti obviously hid a lot of anger under those goggles of hers. 

Zebede wasn't taking such an active role in the fight, opting instead to stay back and protect Tyzias, who had curled up into a small ball. He was probably the worst fighter in the group, but that by no means meant that he was a bad fighter. Already there was a body at his feet. 

And Lanque moved with beauty and grace, flickering through the fight with a small grin. One would think he was waltzing, except his rapier would dart out and a tealblood would fall to the ground. There were only a few nicks on his suit, but that was the extent of the damage he had taken.

Fozzer was dying. But at least he'd die surrounded by those worth dying for. 

Or not. Azdaja's voice sounded. 

"Hands off my kismesis, you inbred freaks!" He landed with a thud, overcoat fluttering around him. The light glinted off his scouter. Fozzer had no idea where he jumped from. "I have a pot of mind honey, so I give you the count of fucking three. One… two..."

Barzum and Baizli glanced at each other, and then each dropped their half of the bow. Fozzer fell to his knees, panting. He was almost looking forward to dying. 

Azdaja was holding a jar of mind honey. "Call the legislacerators off." 

Baizli looked back to where Elwurd stood panting over the body of her eight victim. "I don't, uh, motherfuckin' think that's-"

Azdaja popped the lid. "CALL THEM THE FUCK OFF."

Barzum sighed. "You heard the man. Motherfuckin' goldbloods, you know? Fall back or whatever."

Azdaja sighed in relief, lowering the pot. 

"What happened to Konyyl?" Fozzer asked. Azdaja gave a little chuckle, then exhaled like a balloon. 

With the pause in the action, Fozzer saw not the heroes that had been there moments before, but the real trolls underneath.   
Marsti wasn't a valiant warrior, she looked like a psychopath, covered head to toe in teal-colored blood. Her goggles had been shattered or hurt somehow in the battle, and her eyes didn't show the slightest remorse at all the cruelty that had been wrought. 

Charun was staring at their hands, looking sort of surprised at themself for being able to do that. They kept looking around, blinking, and then looking back. They opened and closed their hands as if the bloody hands belonged to someone else. 

Zebede had multiple gashes on his face and body, a few bleeding heavily. Maybe a little too heavily for anyone's liking. The beekeeper had torn off some cloth from his sleeve and was dabbing gingerly at where the cuts were the worst. But he was also crouched next to Tyzias, shooshing her gently. Zebede would be a world-class moirail to whoever he eventually ended up with. 

Tyzias looked even worse then she had when she first came to the camp, and that was definetely saying something. There had at least been something behind her eyes when she first came to the camp, but now behind the tearstreaked face there was nothing. 

Lanque was crouching over each of the bodies of the fallen, saying a few words and then moving on. But he wasn't just committing them to whatever religion he fell under, he was genuinely heartbroken over each and every one of the dead. Fozzer knew that was pointless. The dead didn't listen, they only talked. But even so, there was something authentic about the Virsci trying best he could to remember the fallen. 

Daraya was on the ground, Elwurd kneeling over her, trying to get her to wake up. Elwurd had a nasty gash on her cheek, but she was still trying to fix the makeshift cast that Daraya had shown up wearing. Daraya's eyes fluttered open, and she saw Elwurd tending to her. Daraya smiled a little. 

And Azdaja, Fozzer's kismesis, looked the lowest he ever had. The bottom of his overcoat had splotches of purple and teal blood, but the horn on his right had snapped off at the base and Azdaja kept rubbing his shoulders as if he was cold. Uncontrolled sparks occasionally fizzed and crackled from his eyes. He'd put the jar of mind honey back into his coat. 

"We can't stop," Marsti said. "Let's just keep moving."

"C'mon, Scrubber," Zebede pleaded. "Tyzias is a shell. Daraya isn't in any position to move, and Fozzer was just strangled. At least give us a few minutes to–"

"You didn't hear what I said about cutting you loose?" Marsti snapped. "My goal is to live. If Digger, if this tealblood, if even yo-"

That troll from before, the one that killed Cirava, appeared out of nowhere. A wild grin on its face, it tackled Marsti to the ground, biting her protein chute. There was a wet tear, and the Caprira looked up with a grin, lips stained red. 

"WHO THE FUCK IS THAT!" Fozzer screamed. Zebede held his sickle in front of him, shaking his head. No, no, no… 

Elwurd jumped at the purpleblood, and after a moment Charun joined the fight. Daraya got next to Zebede, and brought him over to where Tyzias was. 

The Caprira must have used a chucklevoodoo– purplebloods loved them– because the next thing Fozzer saw were Charun and Elwurd scrambling back. Azdaja was there and he had the mind honey which he popped open, dumping the hole jar's worth into his mouth, and a ferocious beam blasted the purpleblood away. Every loose end, snipped away. Azdaja fell to the ground, eyes dissolving and running down his face, and then he was dead. Just like that, another one. 

This was going on too fucking long. Why. Fozzer had just been a gravedigger, that's all he wanted to be. Why was this his fucking life. Why were his auspitice and kismesis dead. Why was Marsti insane now, why was Cirava dead, why did these highbloods keep attacking them, why why why no no no no no no no. 

"I'm sorry," Zebede said, patting Fozzer awkwardly on the back. "He's in a better place now."

Azdaja wasn't, though. His ghost lingered, saw the Caprira's ghost, and then sort of… stayed there. Like every other fucking ghost on this gods-fucked planet with no way out, not even death, suicide wasn't an option because that would mean a fucking eternity trapped on this hellhole. If you were lucky enough to grow up then you'd either die waging one of the empress' wars or you'd be culled for not following orders. 

Fozzer left his shovel by Azdaja's body. Just another fucking relic, at this point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright this went on for way too long and I still have more planned for those poor little gremlins so I guess... I like inflicting self-pain? Anyways, I really, really, like this world and trust me Tyzias isn't going to be 100% useless. 
> 
> I also wanted to say that I love every troll and killing them off one by one physically pains me.


	5. A Troll Like You In A Hive Like This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHAT 
> 
> I don't have a set update schedule and chronically have commitment issues with my work, anyway here's this chapter

Chixie and Tirona were laid out on a loungeplank, Tirona's, in Tirona's hive, side by side. Tirona was letting Chixie talk about an upcoming gig, although truth be told Tirona was sort of zoning out. It seemed that with every consecutive gig, Chixie was getting a larger and larger audience. Chixie was legitimately a genius when it came to deal with crowds– she'd make one hell of a purpleblood. Tirona wasn't jealous, she recognized her strengths lay outside of the stage. 

A knock on the door went off that sent them both sprawling in surprise. 

"Who was that?" Chixie asked, picking herself off the floor. She drew a sword– after her scare with Zebruh, Chixie wasn't going anywhere without an actual weapon. 

"I don't know, but you should go hide anyways," Tirona replied, eyes locked on the door. She heard a scramble behind her, and was glad that Chixie did what she asked for once. 

Tirona thought quickly, and decided that no matter who was at the door, going unarmed would be smartest. She didn't know about Chixie, but Tirona was sure she hadn't done anything bad. Tirona swallowed. She opened the door. 

And there was Mallek. Tirona almost melted in relief, hurrying him in before closing the door. "Don't worry!" she called. "It's only Mallek!" 

Chixie's head rose from underneath the loungeplank. Gog was she bad at hiding. How she had survived long enough to get a career, Tirona had no clue. Tirona decided to drag another loungeplank to join the first one and give everyone room, found she lacked the upper arm strength, and let Chixie and Mallek do it, a little flustered. 

"No- not by the table! There's some East Alternian valuables there- yes- no no no- yes, that's right- a little forward- thank you." She directed. 

Once everyone got situated, and Mallek agreed to take off his shoes ("But look at how sweet they are!"), they flopped down. And Chixie had apparently been waiting for Mallek to come, because a vicious grin took control of her face. 

"So… why would you choose the most repulsive troll on the planet to fill a quadrant with?" Chixie asked.

"You just answered your own question!" Mallek said, chuckling. "Don't tell me you're black for him as well…"

"No, no, strictly platonic hate."

"We were schoolfed together, truth be told. And everyone hated him– but he didn't really hate anyone back enough, it was just his stupid toothy grin. But then I got to talking with him, and we started disagreeing on music tastes, and we just… went from there."

"Music?" Tirona asked. "What are your tastes in music?"

"Well, it's… I like the angry stuff. Or, not angry, but… fast. Alternian slam poetry generally, but if it's quick and loud I'll hear it. Like the Grubbels, but they're a little too anti-highblood for a blueblood like myself."

"Oh, and let me guess– he's into, like, those ancient power ballads?" That was Chixie, grinning.

"Even older, like music from back when movies have titles." Chixie laughed at what she thought was a joke, until she realized that Mallek was being serious. 

"No, that's insane," Chixie said, trying to wrangle her face back into seriousness. 

"You can't actually be black for him after that, can you? Like," Tirona thought for a moment. "If I had a kismesis like that, I'd just straight-up strangle him."

"How do you think I learned that he has a choking kink?" Mallek asked, and Tirona exploded into a coughing fit. Did he really just– wait, does that mean he's–

 

"Wait, you two have pailed?" Tirona asked, incredulous. "Like, for real?"

Mallek nodded, slowly, and Chixie gave out a squeak. "Nope. Nope. I'm going to have that image stuck in my head now, you asshat."

"I think he's actually lucky," Mallek snorted. "Without me, he'd be out prostituting himself for a single Caegar, he's that… how do I put it? Insatiable."

Ew, that's… god, Zebruh's such a gross… Tirona didn't get the chance to finish that train of thought, because the apartment shuddered and the window (glass viewing pane, as Chixie might have called it; lowbloods make up the strangest words for things) lit up.

Mallek was already on his feet, a ball and chain in his hands. Tirona idly wondered what strife specibi it fell into, but she was already taking out a pistol and Chixie had her sword out.   
An indigoblood barged in, Galekh. Tirona couldn't remember his last name, but he lived down the hall. He wasn't holding any weapons, instead he had his palms out. He wrinkled his nose when seeing Chixie, but let it go. "Don't worry, you aren't in immediate danger," he reassured. "Some purplebloods took a team of legislacerators to shut down another one of those gutterblooded rebellions. It seems they're popping up like underground gnawbeasts these days."

"So the explosions were…" Asked Tirona.

"Likely the preliminary attack," Galekh confirmed. "It'll all quiet down sooner or later."

If Galekh hadn't been there, Tirona would have closed the door because she was the closest. As it was, Chixie closed the door because she was the lowest blood caste, and by a large margin. 

The door burst open again, a new tealblood standing in the doorway. Chixie was knocked to the ground in shock. 

"Tegiri Kalbur, legislacerator, no precint. No one in this room will move an inch unless I say, clear?" He growled, flashing a badge. 

"My name is Tirona Kasund," Tirona said, "and I am the third-most powerful legislacerator in this whole stemcluster. You don't have to-"

"To hell with your petty heirarchies," Mallek said, "I'm a blueblood, this guy here-" Mallek gestured to Galekh "- is an indigo. So you can take your red tape and–

Galekh stepped in front of Mallek. "Look… Tegiri… I actually practiced legislaceration. Failed the physical, but I know the logistics of it front and back. And by invading this tealblood's residence, who is a powerful member of the legislacerators–"

"I'm on special orders from Marvus Xolotl, so I technically outrank everyone here," Tegiri said. He adjusted his hat."And for the record, Galekh, you're actually fine. A few people were specified to go free, you're one of them. So get going."

Galekh nodded, drew his thumb from his left ear to right cheekbone, the legislaceration symbol, and then bolted. 

Tegiri checked a pad he had, and pulled a pencil out from under his hat, scribbling somthing down. He looked up again. "Who are you?" He asked Mallek. 

"Mallek Adalov," he said, "And I can vouch for these two, they're my friends."

"Nice sentiment," Tegiri said, back to writing on that pad, "Do you want to stay here with them?"

"Uh…" Mallek probably still didn't understand what was going on. "Sure?"

"Alright. This has been a long day. You have scalding leaf juice?" He asked Tirona, then glancing at his pad. "... Tirona. You own this hive, right?"

"Yeah, sure," She said, eager to get up and out. She went over to the mealblock, hands shaking slightly. She grabbed four packets of crushed leaves and set a fire under a pot of water. She didn't hear any talking from where she left, which made her even more nervous. Soon the water was boiling, so she poured it into four East Alternian cups on an East Alternian tray– Tegiri's sword was East Alternian make, so she guessed that he was a sucker for that sort of stuff. Tirona placed a packet in each cup. All through absolute silence. She grabbed the tray and brought it over. Chixie and Mallek had changed the loungeplanks so that there were two, facing each other. Mallek was sitting on one with Tegiri, and Chixie was sitting alone and uncomfortable. Tirona placed the tray on the ground, and stood, hands clasped a little awkwardly. 

Tegiri took the cup with absolute poise and took a sip. He sighed, and looked up at Tirona. "This is perfect. Not as many people know how to make a good cup of scalding leaf juice."

"Thank you," she said, not really caring about the opinion of some random tealblood who had barged in. How did he even know that Chixie would be here? She sat down next to Chixie, and gave her hand a tight squeeze. 

Tegiri looked at Mallek's feet. "Nice shoes."

There was an awkward silence. Tegiri gave one of those little coughs. "I want to preface this by saying that I take no pleasure in this, no matter what happens. I detest working for Xolotl, I'm a freelance legislacerator– I've worked for everyone, even worked for the rebellions that were put down, tonight and… oh, I suppose it was a few days ago. So trust me when I say I find no pleasure in this."

"Pleasure in what?" Chixie asked. 

"I mean, purplebloods. Those tyrians wouldn't know sanity if they were restrained to a table with a scienstiff explaining neurology for three hours straight," he muttered. "So anyway. I have a few questions. Tirona, you can go first."  
Tirona gulped, gave Chixie's hand a squeeze, and led Tegiri to her respiteblock. Most trolls would probably feel awkward showing someone else her respiteblock, but hers was pretty spartan, just a bed, desk, and chair. The only sign that an actual troll lived there were posters of His Honorable Tyranny on the walls, and a few quotes by Troll Albert Einstein. Tegiri didn't pay attention to them. 

He grabbed a chair, moved it so that it faced the bed, and sat down. He gestured for Tirona to sit as well. She nodded. 

Tegiri adjusted his glasses. He took out that pad of his and readied his pencil above it. 

"Are you Tirona Kasund?"

"Yes." 

"Are you an associate of Tyzias Entykk?"

"Um, I knew her when we were grubs being schoolfed. She had a pretty controversial thesis on jurispru-"

"Answer the question."

"Sure? Yes."

"Are you a twelth-precint legislacerator?"

"Fourteenth, actually. I wasn't bluffing when I said I was the third-most powerful legislacerator in the stemcluster."

"What was your thesis on?"

"Number theory, basically. Using probabilities and the like to determine the most likely perpetrator, outside of hemospectrum-based biases or emotional ties. His Honorable Tyranny actually read it. Maybe you've heard of it? Ruthless Calculus?"

"That was you?" Tegiri looked surprised for a moment. He made a few quick marks on the pad. "Do you hold any anti-hemospectrum ties?"

"Oh. That's what this is about. Well, I think that's a pretty nuanced question, Tegiri-"  
"Answer it best you can."

"Alright then. I'm happy with my position on the hemospectrum, and feel lucky to be a highblood."

"So you don't hold anti-hemospectrum ties."

"I will only say what I have said."

"Alright, well then, why would you do the menial work of boiling the scalding leaf juice, when a bronzeblood was also in your hive?"

"Chixie is my moirail. I put that above any sort of arbitrary social construct."

"So you do hold anti-hemospectrum ties."

"I will only say what I have said."

"You did say that Chixie Roixmr is your moirail, however?"

"Yes."

"Am I incorrect in thinking that Chixie, similar to other lowblooded bands such as The Grubbles, uses anti-highblood messages in her songs?"

"Ooh, don't compare Chixie to The Grubbels. She hates their music. Too much autotune, she says."

"Answer the question. Does Chixie use messages that are anti-highblood?"

"It gets the other lowbloods listening."

"So yes?"

"Yes, she uses messages that denounce highbloods. And before you ask, she also uses slurs against the Heiress, seadwellers, and clowns."

"Would you define that as anti-hemospectrum?"

"I wouldn't define it at all."

"If you don't, then I will. And I most definitely do. I hate to do this, especially to such an accomplished legislacerator, but I am turning you in."

Tegiri was standing over Tirona now, taking some handcuffs out of his sylladex. 

"There's no need for that," Tirona said. 

"Really?" Asked Tegiri, a little incredulous. "You're coming willingly? Well, I'll put in a good word to Marvus about you and Chixie, and who knows that insane juggalo might actually–"

"No, there isn't any need for that because you aren't going to be laying a gogdamn hand on me." Tirona had out one of her calculators. She wasn't actually doing anything real with it, but she knew troll psychology inside and out and acting nonchalant would be extremely useful in this scenario. 

"Wh- why?"

"You try to accuse me of jack shit," she said, looking up at Tegiri, "And I'll recriminate you so bugwinged hard that you'll be delegated to being a rustblood, if you even manage to survive at all."

"What?"

"That goes for Chixie too. And don't you dare fucking think I don't have any evidence. Wasn't it you that said 'I detest working for Xolotl'? That admitted to actively and openly working with the various rebellions?"

"You've got no damn proof, and Marvus knows where my allegiances lay-"

"And I'm sure he does, but does the Grand Highblood?" Tirona still hadn't looked up from her calculator, but now she was punching some stuff in. "He's historically had the strength of four subjugglators, and I'd assume you weigh 63 troll kilograms?"

"Uh..."

"He would be able to paint your teal blood across a wall and a half, if he spread it evenly."

"Is that a threat?" Tegiri asked, trembling a little but giving a valiant effort. 

Tirona finally looked up at him, and smiled. 

Tegiri flushed strong teal. He whipped his katana out, holding it against Tirona's neck. Tirona gave a sharp whistle, and Chixie and Mallek appeared behind him, each with their respective weapons out. 

"That's called a checkmate, freelance legislacerator," Tirona said, grinning.


	6. A Love-Hate Relationship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I'm really sorry about my sporadic updates, it's just That Time Of Year™ and I can't get anything done to save my life.

Daraya watched Fozzer drop his shovel. He looked like he was making a big deal out of it. Daraya didn't really get that. It was just a shovel. He could find another one. She knew that all the trolls that had been with Azdaja were probably suffering or something like that, but Daraya just felt lucky. Elwurd was alive. Tyzias was… breathing. Lanque was alive. And there were probably a lot more trolls with the Rebellion that were alive, too. They were all good fighters. They had to be. 

Charun, Marsti, Fozzer, and Zebede were all at various stages of freaking out. Zedebe was the closest to sane among them, and Marsti seemed coherent at least, which seemed to Daraya a step above Fozzer, who was basically with Tyzias when it came to speaking ability. Charun was difficult to get a read on, but he kept twitching and shuddering, and that didn't exactly scream 'not insane'. 

The group of eight had made their way into the forest. Every few minutes, Tyzias would collapse and Daraya would help her back up. Marsti would complain and Elwurd or Zebede would get her to be quiet. It was slow going. 

But then this time around, when Tyzias collapsed she started screaming. At the top of her lungs she was letting lose a shrill wail. What was she thinking? Wild lusii roamed these forests, that was common knowledge. Was she just asking for a skywhale to drop from the sky and swallow her, or a musclebeast to trample her to death with her hooves? 

"No no no no shhhh it's okay, it's fine, just shut up for the love of gog shhhh…" Daraya squatted next to her, shooshpapping her and not even caring that she wasn't Tyzias' moirail. 

"See?" Marsti said, shrilly. "She's a gog-damned deadweight, we should just cull her and be done with it."

Lanque stepped in front of Marsti. "Or how about we cull you? You've been nothing but a nuisance to everyone. There isn't a single person here except for maybe bee boy over there that you haven't advocated culling."

"Because you fuckers are highbloods and Fozzer and Charun are less useful than a wriggler's corpse!"

"And you're a psychopath so how about we–" Lanque didn't get to finish his sentence because a cholerbear rammed into him from the side. Tyzias was still screaming. Lanque was thrown against a tree with a painful-sounding crack.   
The cholerbear turned towards Tyzias and roared. Fuck shit shit fuck shit fuck– Daraya shook off her extremely useful train of thought. 

Charun let out a strangled roar and charged the thing bare-handed. Bear-handed. Heh. Wait, no, gotta be focused. Fozzer was probably regretting leaving his shovel, and a quick glance over to him confirmed that. He was trembling like a wet mess. Daraya slipped the brass knuckles back on and joined Charun and Marsti. The bee boy, the goldblood, Daraya couldn’t remember his name, yelped and dragged Tyzias over to Lanque’s side to protect them both. He looked like he was either red or pale as all hell for Lanque, and Daraya was pretty sure he was already in a moirallegiance with Marsti, but wait shit back to the battle.

The cholerbear was really shrugging off all the damage it was taking, even with Elwurd joining the fray. Charun was probably doing even more damage than Marsti, but he was barely denting the thing. It shrieked again. 

“Jegus!” Elwurd yelled. “Marsti, aim for the eyes!” 

“I’m trying, jackhole!” She screeched. The cholerbear had snapped her mop in half. 

“You can’t kill it,” Zebede said. “You need to drive it off.” 

“Is anyone here a pyromenace?” Marsti asked in mock sarcasm, ducking the cholerbear’s tail. “No? Well it looks like we’re shit out of luck.”

“No, no, I have an idea,” Fozzer said. He basically hadn’t moved since the fight began. 

“Well I’d love to hear it,” Marsti said, giving up on telekinesis and wielding both halves of the mop as miniature spears.

Fozzer immediately sat down and spat into his hands. Daraya wasn’t able to see what he did next because the cholerbear decided to focus its attention on her. Zebede made some choking noise and Elwurd hissed, and then the cholerbear was trying to flee. It barrelled past a confused Daraya.

Fozzer hadn’t moved, pretty much no one had from their original positions. But everyone conscious and even Tyzias were staring directly at Fozzer in a sort of horror. He shrunk a little form the weight of all the gazes, offering only the words “I’m an orthodox decompositionist” as explanation. 

Zebede started tending to Lanque more, so Daraya dragged Tyzias over to her. “Alright, bitch, we need to talk.” 

Tyzias was unresponsive, her eyes refusing to land on Daraya. 

“Hey! Look at me!”

Nothing. 

“Alright, well, I expected that out of a total failure. I don’t even know why I’m your kismesis, you haven’t changed an iota from the sniveling crybaby I first found except now you’re even more pathetic.” 

“Uh, Daraya?” Fozzer asked. Daraya flipped him off without looking. 

“Seriously. I don’t even know what to ask from you. Ever since we started this shitshow of a rebellion, you just hid behind that stupid as fuck mug of yours that you wouldn’t even let your kismesis see, not once-” 

“I hardly see how that matters in this situation,” Marsti said. Daraya used her hand that wasn’t flipping off Fozzer to flip off Marsti. 

“But the fact of the matter is that you, Tyzias Entykk, are a coward. You are! You hide behind your law, or your theories, never once trying to step out of your shell, and now that you see a few deaths you suddenly think it’s fair to hide even more.

“Well here’s the fact of the matter, oh my kismesis. You’ve got it easy. You never saw Diemen get… get crushed like a soporific berry by Nikhee. You never saw Dammek get eviscerated by Amisia.

“Not only that, but you’ve got it easy with your blood. You were always perfectly suited to be a legislacerator, you with your textbooks and your legalese. You probably would have self-culled if you weren’t teal, that’s how much you love your gogdamn books. Seeing someone as lucky as you, while I was forced to care for grubs that I couldn’t even stand to look at? Why did you even join us if you were going to be a lucky coward?”

Daraya realized she was crying. She looked down and saw Tyzias crying too, and their jade and teal tears mixed in the dirt. Tyzias grabbed Daraya fiercely, and they desperately kissed each other, teeth breaking skin and drawing blood. They separated from each other, and Tyzias punched Daraya in the gut. 

“So she’s sentient now?” Marsti asked. Tyzias smiled and nodded. “Because I’ve got the most insensitive damn kismesis to live on the planet.”

“She’s gogdamn perfect is what she is,” Elwurd said, looking up from cleaning her knife.

“So where are we?” Tyzias asked. “What’s happening? I remember some things, but not a lot. I remember getting to Azdaja’s place, and then I remember clowns, and some fire, and now I’m here. What happened?”

“We… we don’t need to talk about it,” Fozzer said. “I’m Fozzer, Marsti is the one who asked whether or not you’re sentient, the Gempio is Zebede, and the Leiborn–”

“I know Charun,” Tyzias said. “So, we’re on the run?”

“Sort of,” Lanque said. He was trying to get off the ground, and Zebede was holding him down, saying something about rest while blushing deep gold. “We’re eight trolls and Azdaja’s whole operation is–”

“We don’t need to talk about it,” Fozzer repeated, looking up at Lanque. “We need a place to hide.” 

“You know, I know just the place,” Tyzias said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna either have one or two more chapters after this, so keep an eye out. Also, hooray for a chapter half the size of the previous one!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Thanks for reading this. A comment or kudos would be nice if you liked it...


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